Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD6GRJAYBN319AWWZSXGP7F

Molly unrolled the blueprints across the hood of the getaway car, which was also their only car, a 1998 hatchback with a bumper sticker reading "My Other Ride Is Also Stolen." "Okay," she said. "Operation Pinata. The Henderson kid's seventh birthday. Saturday, two p.m. Balloon guy arrives at two-fifteen, which gives us our window." "A clown," Bill whispered reverently. "We get to work with a clown." "We do not get to work with the clown. The clown is a distraction. The clown doesn't know he's a distraction." "That's the saddest thing I've ever heard." Molly tapped the diagram. "Target is the present table. Estimated haul: twenty-two gifts. One of them is a Nintendo Switch. The mom mentioned it on Facebook three times." "Mrs. Henderson has got to learn about privacy settings." "Mrs. Henderson is funding our trip to Atlantic City. Show some respect." Bill squinted at the blueprint. "Why does the dining room have a little drawing of a dog in it?" "Because there's a dog in the dining room. Buster. Golden retriever. Non-violent but extremely friendly. He will want to play." "I can handle friendly." "You cannot handle friendly, Bill. Last month you stopped mid-job to pet a cat for twenty minutes." "She was a good cat." "She was a good cat," Molly conceded. "But we left the silverware." "Fine. What's the plan for Buster?" Molly reached into her bag and produced a squeaky toy shaped like a hot dog. "Countermeasure." "You bought a countermeasure at PetSmart." "I bought three. The other two are for morale." Bill nodded slowly. "And the kids? There will be, what, fifteen children?" "Eighteen." "Eighteen children between us and the presents." "Wrong. Eighteen children are the reason for the presents. The children will be in the backyard for the magic show from two-forty to three-ten. The magician is named The Great Zambini. He is not great. Yelp says so." "Did you hire the magician?" "I recommended the magician to Mrs. Henderson on a parenting forum. I have an account. My name is Deborah. I have twins." "Do the twins have names?" "Kayleigh and Bayleigh." "Those are terrible names." "Deborah is a terrible person, Bill. That's the cover." Bill folded his arms. "And if a kid comes inside early? Bathroom emergency? Juice spill?" Molly sighed the sigh of a woman who had anticipated this. "We have a code word. If a child enters the house, I say 'surprise inspection,' and we pretend to be the present police." "The present police." "Children respect authority, Bill. We wear the sashes. We flash the badges." "We have badges?" "I laminated them myself." Bill was quiet for a moment, staring at the blueprint, at the tiny drawn dog, at the hatchback that smelled faintly of mildew and ambition. "Molly," he said finally. "Are we bad people?" "We're going to steal birthday presents from a seven-year-old, Bill." "Right." "We're the worst people." "Right," he said again. Then: "Do I get a sash too?" "You get the big sash." "Let's steal some presents."